Mementos
by EAD13
Summary: The Dragonborn is not a hoarder, she just likes collecting things from her adventures! Each of her houses is like a small museum, and each item displayed has a story to be told. And she will tell them! Recounted via flashbacks; intro sections may not be chronological but the flashbacks are presented so. Female Imperial Dragonborn x Erik the Slayer, though not the focal point.
1. Chapter 1: Ragged Robes & Footwraps

**Disclaimer:** Naturally, all characters sans Lisabeta and settings belong to Bethesda. In this case, the main plot point also belongs to Bethesda. I just play around with the pieces they provide :)

 **Author's Note:** I will set up these chapters the same way: someone is looking at one of the many items our Dragonborn has collected, we flashback to the event in time she reminisces about though it is told as if currently happening, then flash forward to where we started as she wraps up her story. I hope it isn't too confusing (and please let me know if it is)! Also, I finally played some of Oblivion so I know a bit more about Bruma, but if something is off in terms of lore please let me know, I don't claim to be an expert on Oblivion!

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Erik had misplaced his favorite riding gloves again, much to his frustration. He could easily afford to simply buy a new pair, but despite the shared wealth between him and his wife, neither preferred to be loose with their money. Neither had been raised to be wasteful, being a farm boy and a palace servant respectively. Besides, they would be setting off soon for the province capital where she had business, and he knew the winds would be biting as they headed north. Perhaps most importantly though, those gloves were a gift from Sofie and Lucia for his birthday a few years back, each glove personally embroidered by the girls to demonstrate their growing skills and their affection for their adopted father. Every time he put them on he remembered with a smile. No, those gloves could never be replaced!

Their cozy home in Whiterun was not all that large, and he'd already looked in the obvious places around the kitchen and sitting area. His next best bet was the bedroom, so he began to rummage through the nightstands on either side of the bed. The first was filled with saved correspondences with the Jarl; his wife never threw those things out, as if she didn't get plenty from the man! There were also some bounty letters, each with a date of completion scrawled across the bottom. It was all paper though, no gloves, so he shut the drawer and moved to the other side of the bed.

This time when he opened the drawer, he found fabric. It was not the fine fabric of a Thane, nor was it even common day-to-day fabric. This…whatever it was…looked like it belonged in the trash. At a loss, he pulled it out of the drawer and held it up. It was a garment of shoddy quality, fibers course and dirtied. Wait, was that…blood? He was not a squeamish man, but he almost dropped it when he noticed that. What was such a thing doing in her nightstand? Then there were two smaller pieces of fabric. Footwraps perhaps?

"What did you find, dear?" He was so deep in thought that he visibly jumped as she spoke, causing her to giggle. She had heard him rummaging around in the bedroom and came to investigate.

"I was looking for my gloves when I found this in your nightstand," he held it up for her to see. "I'm guessing you could enlighten me on what this is? I've never seen it. I guess I never go into those drawers."

Her smiling face dissolved into a serious frown. "That is one of the most important things I own, actually."

Brow furrowed, he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. She obeyed, taking the robes from him. "I sense there is a good story behind this. You always have a good story."

"You're right about that," she said softly, fingering the fabric. "Most people would throw this out because it is cheap, gross, or especially because of bad memories attached to it. I just don't want to forget where I came from."

"You mean to tell me you WORE this at one point? I thought your family worked in the palace at Bruma; even servants would be better dressed than this."

"Oh Erik," she sighed, resting her head against his muscular arm. "If you had seen me when I first arrived in Skyrim…"

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 **17th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

She tried not to think about the fresh, sticky blood on the chopping block where her own neck was now resting, nor the decapitated head in the box a mere inches from her own. Her breath was shaky, though she willed herself not to cry as she looked at the headsman and his horrible, bloody axe. All the men and women she had been captured with would share her fate, and they met their executioners with fiery insults right to the end, unafraid of death and assured that they would arrive in Sovngard for their noble sacrifices. The problem was that they were soldiers, trained and accepting that this moment could come. She was definitely not.

The headsman was distracted by some kind of dull roar in the background, allowing her a few more seconds to contemplate how things had come to this, a young Imperial woman ready for execution in a small town across the border.

When she had left her hometown of Bruma to cross the Jerall Mountains into Skyrim, she had been looking for one good adventure before her parents could marry her off and her window of opportunity closed. Being nearly 19, she didn't have much time left. In fact, she was lucky to be of slightly higher birth than the average citizen so her parents could afford not to marry her off so young. Both of her parents were Nibeneans who were assigned positions within Castle Bruma, and although the rest of her family viewed this assignment as a bit of an insult due to Bruma's less than desirable location high in the frigid mountains, Lisabeta never had any qualms about growing up in the Nord-influenced town of perpetual snow. In fact, she actually liked snow. She liked the rousing Nord songs and tales, far more wild than anything an Imperial would come up with. She liked sitting around the fire in their wooden house feeling cozy and safe.

She also loved to read and learn. Having parents that worked within the castle meant she had access to an education that not many girls in such a place could boast. She would often visit her parents at work during their breaks when she was a girl, and the Count and Countess were kind enough to let her see all the Akaviri relics Countess Narina had collected centuries before. The ruling couple were usually amused at her insatiable thirst for knowledge and told her all kinds of information about the pieces in their collection. This was when she began to yearn for a chance to travel and explore these far-off places for herself. And she wouldn't have to go far for a good adventure; the Pale Pass of legend was practically on her doorstep! Sure, there had been avalanches many years ago that made the routes impossible to traverse with troops or caravans, but one explorer with a mercenary guide could surely find the place… After all, not only was it a crucial fort during the end of the first era when the Akaviri were still clinging to Tamriel, but the Hero of Kvatch herself had located it and brought back the legendary Draconian Madstone after fighting off the undead! Oh, there was still so much to learn about the Akaviri from across the sea, and if she could pull such a feat off, the Count and Countess might make her the court historian!

As it was when she left, she was little more than the court seamstress with occasional performances on flute for their amusement. Her mother had taught her to sew so she could earn her keep doing some kind of work, and her quick and nimble fingers were well suited to the task. The flute she had taught herself, having received it as a gift when she was ten, and when she was not busy at the castle she played for tips at the fancier Jerall View Inn. Though most of her coin went to her family to support them, she always kept a little bit hidden away for this trip she had designed.

Last week, she had finally decided it was time. She had saved enough coin to buy supplies, and what she estimated would be enough for a mercenary guide. However, she knew she would have to cross the border to find anyone willing, as all the people in Bruma would find her out and report her intentions to her parents. They would stop her. They would say it was too dangerous. They would say a mild-mannered, scholarly and artistic girl like her had no business leaving the city. So she left a note explaining that she intended to have an adventure without actually revealing where she was going, simply stating that she would return in two weeks' time or send word. She bought the cheapest apparel possible to avoid attention by bandits, and made sure her choice in attire made her look like a man to avoid other problems. With enough food in her pack to last for a week and a reliable map, she set off on the Silver Road north completely enthused and energetic.

She didn't have any problem crossing the border to Skyrim. Her gear was checked to make sure she wasn't smuggling, and she herself was inspected to make sure she wasn't carrying in disease. She carried enough coin that they knew she wasn't coming in to mooch, and she stated her intentions to find a mercenary guide this side of the border. She was not a threat, not even in this world so shaken by war. However, war found a way to catch up to her once she made it past the checkpoint.

Not an hour into Skyrim, beginning to slowly descend the slopes of the Jeralls in the direction of Helgen, she met a band of soldiers in blue cloth and leather armor. They seemed to be going in the same direction, which unnerved her. Soldiers were not usually good for a young woman on her own… She had pulled her coat tighter to hide more of her face as she deliberately kept behind them, and though they noticed her presence, they ignored her, much to her relief.

That was when a band of soldiers in red cloth and leather armor erupted from behind the rocky cliffs, raining down a volley of arrows. She remembered screaming; being caught in a battle was definitely not a part of her plans! Before a single arrow could lodge its way into her flesh one of the soldiers to the rear of the formation rushed in her direction and threw himself over her without hesitation. His body was heavy and he smelled of sweat. She could feel him shudder, then grow stiff and cold. He was dead. She shook, terrified, and squeezed her eyes shut, praying for it all to be over. She could hear the sound of anguished screams as arrows hit their marks, and soon there was a clash of steel. The red troops must have come forward to meet the blue head on…

The skirmish was over shortly thereafter. There were just so many more soldiers in red, and they had the advantage of surprise… Unable to hide her breath in the absence of the sounds of battle, she held it, praying to Mara that they would leave her for dead.

"Grab all of the bodies. We need to take a count and make sure none escaped," a rough female voice barked, muffled by the soldier's body on top of her. Gods no…

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of her and she was blinded by the sun. She did her best to remain still, and hoped there was some blood on her somewhere so they might just toss her in a pile of bodies… No such luck. She was roughly grabbed by a soldier in red, who hauled her to her feet and scanned her. "I found another one over here. Looks like these Stormcloak bastards brought their camp hooker with them. Even died to save her, she must have been something in bed…"

At that remark, she was too angry to be scared. "I am NOT a hooker! How dare you make fun of his sacrifice!" she screamed, feeling power form in her chest from the fear, the anger, the sorrow. Nothing she had ever felt in her life compared. Just seeing the soldier's lifeless body tossed to the side, arrow still sticking out of his back, dead because he wanted to save a stranger… She never got a chance to finish her fiery rant. A sharp blow to her neck knocked her out cold.

When she awoke, she found herself in a wagon travelling with three others, wrists bound in front of her and all her items confiscated. One of her companions introduced himself as a Stormcloak soldier named Ralof, and informed her she was in the presence of their most glorious leader, Ulfric. She did not recognize the name, nor did she particularly care at that point. There was also a horse thief, who like her had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if she was jumpy, he was practically a nervous wreck. Though, to be fair, she was still trying to figure out what was going on. They kept talking about Sovngard. Wait…wasn't that a place Nords believed they went to when they died? So then… Her stomach twisted into a knot. For whatever reason, whatever sick twist of fate, her little adventure was going to end in her execution alongside these apparent rebels. Not freezing to death in the Pale Pass. Not being mauled by a frost troll. And sadly, not even run through by the blades of the undead. No, she was going to get blamed for something she didn't do and die before her adventure could even begin.

She was so preoccupied by these thoughts that she completely ignored Ralof's ramblings. Something about mead with juniper berries, really not a big deal right now… She only snapped to attention when the wagon came to a halt. They were in Helgen. Oh the irony… The soldiers, Imperial, apparently, began to call names. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. Ralof of Riverwood. Lokir of Rorikstead… Upon hearing his name, the horse thief decided he wasn't going to go down quietly and broke free, running for his freedom. This was met with an arrow in the back. If she had been considering something similar, defying her fate, that hope died with him.

Gradually, every name was called except her own. The man reading from the list looked at her, confused. "You there, step forward." She gulped and obeyed, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Who are you?"

"Lisabeta Pacelli. Of Bruma," she replied meekly, looking at him pleadingly. He just shook his head as he studied his list to no avail and sighed.

"Captain, she's not on the list. What do we do?" he inquired of his superior.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block," the commanding officer growled impatiently. Her heart sank again. How many times could that happen in one afternoon?

He looked back at the girl before him and appeared genuinely distraught. He averted his gaze. "We'll make sure we send your remains back to Bruma then." _Really? That was it? If you were so sorry, why the heck don't you point out it is unfair to kill someone you have no crime for?! Oh, right, this is the MILITARY and you don't talk back._ Before she headed to the crowd around the headsman, she shot him a death glare, and he definitely saw it. His frown was made even more severe and he gripped his pen tightly. _That's right, I hope you feel awful and hate yourself right about now!_

And there she was, on the ground with her neck in just the right position to be detached from her body in one swift swoop. The headsman's arms raised over his head with the axe grasped in his hands. All she could pray for now was a quick death.

What arrived was instant all right, but it wasn't the death she had expected. Before he could bring the axe down, the ground quaked and he toppled over. She could see a giant lizard-like creature land on the tower behind them. Wait, land? So it could fly? So that meant…

Before the word came to her, the monster let out a horrible roar that sent everyone flying and made her feel incredibly dizzy. There was something about it…it seemed almost like speech…and it made her head spin and feel fuzzy… Then, the heat of flames. They missed her, being she was down on the ground, but they definitely found others, who screamed in agony. One voice stood out among the chaos. "Quickly, this way! You won't get a second chance!" She struggled to her feet with her bound wrists, still reeling from the force of the beast's roar, and turned to see Ralof, somehow free from his bindings and motioning wildly for her to run to the tower for shelter. Ducking her head, she obeyed before she could be caught in another blast of fire. The door slammed shut behind her.

There were other Stormcloaks in the tower. Some had been seriously wounded in the initial onslaught. Their friends worked to patch up their wounds so they could move. Taking a second to regroup, she realized the first priority should be freeing her hands. "Hey, Ralof, would you…" she turned, only to find him speaking with Ulfric. When he finished, he didn't give her a single moment to ask, he just pulled her up the stone stairs. The dragon knocked a huge chunk out of the wall right in front of them, narrowly missing the pair but burying the man in front of them. Ralof peered through the new hole and spied the roof of the inn across the way. "You'll have to jump!" he declared, nudging her forward.

"But shouldn't you…"

"Jump!"

 _Well, fine then. Who needs hands anyhow, especially when trying to land on a roof some distance away…_ She took a deep breath and a few running steps before flinging herself through the air. She wouldn't normally do something like this without hesitation, but after all she had been through that day, it seemed insignificant. She landed with a thud and rolled forward from the momentum. It hurt, but it shouldn't turn into more than a bruise. She slowly picked herself up and looked around. Ralof was nowhere to be found. At a loss for what to do next, she jumped down to the next level, only to run into…the man with the list.

She remained sheltered behind what remained of the building's wall, waiting for a chance to make a break for it, but that damn list guy wasn't going anywhere. In fact, he was coaxing a small boy to run to him and out of the path of the monster's wrath. The boy obeyed, and just in time as the place where he was standing was hit with yet another burst of flame. The man hugged the boy close. "Good work Haming. Gunnar, take him to safety. I have to join General Tullius in the defense." He rose and drew his sword.

"God's guide you, Hadvar," the older man murmured, taking the boy's hand. Once they headed for a safe route away from the danger, Hadvar turned and looked at her in a way that suggested he had been aware of her presence the whole time.

"You're alive, prisoner. Stay close to me if you want to stay that way." He motioned for her to follow him, and despite her resentment towards him, she found herself obeying. There really weren't many options. They wove through the tangle of dead bodies and downed rubble towards the keep. Once, the monster had landed right on the wall above them, but they avoided his claws and death-dealing fire by pressing close to the stone. Once the beast alighted again, they continued. "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close."

"My name is Lisabeta…." she scowled to his back, but followed anyhow.

The last obstacle between them and the keep was none other than Ralof. "Ralof! Out of my way you damned traitor!" Hadvar shouted, suddenly tuning out the pandemonium around him and glaring at the Stormcloak.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time," Ralof warned, looking ready to pounce.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngard," Hadvar dismissed him. This was no place to pick a fight after all, and both men knew it.

"You, come on into the keep!" Ralof beckoned to her, then he went in through one door.

"Quick, I can cut you loose inside the keep," Hadvar instructed, entering through another door.

That left Lisabeta with a choice: follow the rebel whose comrade had saved her life, or the "good guy" soldier who would have let her be killed despite his misgivings. The choice was obvious. At least, it was until she remembered how Hadvar had gotten that little boy to safety and then went back into the fray to help his comrades. All Ralof wanted to do was escape and talk to Ulfric, not save the villagers. Hadvar told her to stick close. Ralof told her to jump out a window and then left her to her own devices.

And Hadvar didn't need reminding that her wrists needed to be unbound.

So, as crazy as it seemed, Lisabeta chose the further door.

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"I…knew about Helgen. You've told me about the attack. But, why did you never tell me you were a prisoner of the Imperial army, about to be executed?" Erik questioned when she finished.

She shrugged. "Who'd believe that, considering I ended up working for them in the end? Who'd want to hear that their national hero was a naïve girl playing adventure who wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time? Besides, with everything that happened afterwards, the story of how it began doesn't seem so important, right?"

He took her hands. "No, you're wrong. Beginnings are the most important. Nothing that has happened since would come to pass if you hadn't been captured."

She pointed to a large stain of blood on the robes. "Nothing would have come to pass if that man hadn't given his life to save mine. You are right, of course. If I truly didn't believe it, I wouldn't have held onto this. I don't want to forget. Ever."

He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I'll thank the Nine every night for his sacrifice. I can't imagine a world without you in it…" Bending down, his lips met hers and they shared a deep kiss.

When they broke it off, she was back to her smiling self. "You know, I don't think I've ever told ANYONE about those clothes. It is kind of nice that someone knows."

"Any time, love. Besides, I like your stories," he smirked, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Also, Erik, before I forget, I did find your gloves…" She reached into her pocket with her free hand and lightly smacked his cheek with them.

"Where…?"

"Eh, the fox thought it would be fun to have a scavenger hunt. Under Sophie's bed."


	2. Chapter 2: Stormcloak Armor

**Disclaimer:** All settings and characters sans Lisabeta are property of Bethesda, as are the loose plot points.

 **Author's Note:** Ah, nothing as divisive in the fandom as that age-old question: Stormcloak or Imperial. But that aside, one of my favorite people is, oddly enough, Hadvar. I felt in game that he took on this sort of mentoring role with my Dragonborn, perhaps in part due to guilt for not being able to keep her from the executioner. Some people have reported him making comments that were not as kind as I present here, but to be honest I never experienced him being a jerk in any of my playthroughs. In other words, no flames because you don't like the way I elaborated on his character; you're experience with him may have been different than mine. Anyhow, read on!

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Though it had taken nearly a year, construction on Lakeview Manor was finally complete. What had begun as a simple one-room cabin on land purchased from Jarl Sidgeir evolved into a sprawling home with guest bedrooms, an outdoor patio, a massive kitchen, and a trophy room as Lisabeta collected sufficient funds for the construction. This was to be a place to invite and house guests, especially her family across the border in Bruma. She had hoped they would be the first to grace the manor with their presence, but they were not free to take leave from the Count and Countess for another month.

She was not content to sit there alone though, not in that huge place, not when there should be a celebration. Rayya did not count, as wonderful as the loyal housecarl was. Instead, she invited the next closest people she could think of when it came to family: Alvor, Sigrid & Dorthe. They were the ones that got her back on her feet when all she had were the rags on her back and a few scavenged odds and ends from Helgen's keep. They fed her. They gave her shelter. Dorthe begged to hear her stories about the dragon. Sigrid helped her find some suitable clothes for travel. Alvor even showed her how to use the forge and make repairs to her gear. The family would say they did nothing, as she was the one who helped save Hadvar and delivered the plea for aid to the ears of Jarl Balgruf, but she didn't buy that.

Sadly, Hadvar was no longer recovering with his aunt and uncle in Riverwood. The Imperial soldier was back in Solitude resuming his post, and would not be there to share in her triumph, something she very much wished. She knew she owed a great deal to him, and despite their rocky beginning, she considered him the older brother she never had. She could trust him with anything, and could always count on him for good advice. Once her guests left, she would have to write him a letter. Maybe even draw him a map of her manor!

Alvor's family arrived by noon, not having a far travel from Riverwood to Lakeview. Sparing no expense, she had hired a carriage driver to take them the distance in addition to picking up Lucia and Lydia from Whiterun. When they arrived, lunch was already spread across the great table in the dining room: buttered mudcrab legs, vegetable stew, elk venison, cheeses, breads, and naturally sweetrolls. The adults were presented with Spiced Wine from Solitude, and Lisabeta and the girls enjoyed fresh milk. The Imperial was proud to say most of the food on the table had been provided by her own hand, game hunted, vegetables grown in the garden, milk from her cow. It somehow made the hospitality even more real. Only one thing was wrong.

"Lydia! Rayya! Stop hovering and come take a seat!"

"But, my Thane…" Lydia began.

Lisabeta cut her off. "This meal is to celebrate. You are as much a part as anyone. Come and join us at the table!" Housecarls were sworn to obey, so grudgingly they took a seat alongside the other guests.

When the meal was done, the tour began. There was a lot for the girls to admire, treasures in each display case. Lisabeta had a story for each object, but if she told them all, they'd be there for weeks. She simply smiled and told what each object was, very pleased that she was creating a museum to rival the collection of the Count and Countess of Bruma! The tour ended upstairs in front of a battered suit of Stormcloak armor displayed on a mannequin. Alvor was of course very interested.

"Lisabeta, I've noticed all your other pieces were in pristine condition, but this is the only item that is in disrepair. Is there a reason for it?"

"Very much so." She paused. "Lucia, why don't you and Dorthe go play? I left a few surprises in your bedroom…" Her adopted daughter's eyes grew bright as she and her "cousin" scurried off to find whatever was hiding. The Dragonborn chuckled and returned her attention to her remaining guests. "They don't need to hear this story." Suddenly, her face became somber. "It's a story about the first life I ever took."

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17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

As she stumbled in behind Hadvar, he quickly shut the heavy door behind them. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to her. "Here, let's get these bindings off." With surprising gentleness, he took her wrists and pulled out his dagger, slicing through the ropes until they fell to the ground. All the while, she attempted to read his face, hoping to judge the sincerity of his actions. "Are you all right?"

"That's a funny thing to say to someone who was about to lose her head…" Lisabeta frowned, rubbing her wrists.

Hadvar looked down again, rubbing the back of his head. "I…I know how bad that looked. It was not the army's finest moment. With the Thalmor breathing down our necks and the leader of the rebellion in our grasp, I'm sure the higher ups wanted to purge everything that resembled the enemy without trial. It was wrong, but one word and I'd be court-martialed, maybe even called out for treason."

She growled. "The joys of the military. No independent thinking allowed."

He looked up with a new fire in his hazel eyes. "Look, I didn't join up with them to lose my sense of self. I just wanted to help keep the empire united and strong, which was my way of standing up for my ideals. I guess I shouldn't expect an Imperial like you to understand what was at stake here in Skyrim."

She was taken aback. That was the most defiant he had been all day… Sighing, she scratched her head. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm far from home, I was randomly caught in the middle of another province's conflict, I'm alone, and I don't know how to fend for myself. I nearly died, and I watched an entire village get decimated by a fire-breathing reptile. It's been the worst day of my life and I'm feeling irritable. Granted your day hasn't been a cakewalk either. You made sure to look out for me once things went haywire out there, and I should be thanking you. No one else worried about some prisoner in the middle of the attack…"

"Hmph. I'm not done yet." He folded his arms. "You and me, we are going to get out of here. I'll make sure of it; it's the least I can do after what you have been through by our hands. Besides, clearly the gods are not ready for you to die. Now, there should be some extra gear around here. You should find some armor and a weapon, just in case. I don't suppose you've ever wielded a sword, have you?"

She shook her head weakly. "I…was always one for the books myself."

"Anyhow, it doesn't matter. If we run into something, I'll do most of the work fighting it off. I just want you to have something as a last line of defense. Got it, Lisabeta?"

Upon hearing her name, she gave a genuine smile. He HAD been listening. "Yes, sir."

He held up a hand. "Call me Hadvar."

"All right, Hadvar."

"You go do that, and I'll find something to take care of these burns." It had been hard to see in the dim light of the glowing embers in the lamps, but when she squinted, she could see blistering, discolored skin on his arms. What she wouldn't give for training in the school of restoration at this moment…

After a few minutes of rummaging through the storage chests in the keep, Hadvar found a soothing ointment and Lisabeta had found a set of light Imperial armor that remotely fit her, as well as a simple iron sword. It was heavy and clumsy in her grasp, and even though it was meant to be a one-handed weapon, it took two to control it properly.

"All set?" Hadvar asked, finding the gate activation pull.

"One more thing. If there is anything I know, it is that preparation is key." She held out an old soldier's pack she had found. "I intend to carry off anything of use we find in here. I'm sure no one is going to miss it at the moment." She then preceded to pack a pair of wooden bowls, a pair of dull metallic tankards, and a book.

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, always good to be prepared I guess. Just don't let it slow you down, or it will be more hindrance than help." Then he opened the door. "Let's go. I've been in here a few times before, and I think I have an idea of how to reach the exit out of town towards Riverwood."

On the way, they encountered many things, things that told her volumes about her new companion. For starters, they stumbled upon rebels, but instead of launching an attack, Hadvar decided to try reasoning with them. With his weapons sheathed and his hands raised he announced his arrival to the soldiers in the next room, making a plea for assistance. They didn't even let him finish his sentence before drawing swords and moving in for the kill. Despite his desire for a peaceful resolution, Hadvar proved to be no slouch in combat as he single-handedly finished off the pair before they could finish him. She held back, letting him handle the fighting as he had promised, and only when the Stormcloaks fell to his blade did she emerge.

"Wow Hadvar, you really know how to fight, don't you?" she marveled, biting her lip as she looked down at the dead rebels.

He wiped his blade. "It's what soldiers are trained to do. I wish they wouldn't have forced my hand though; I don't enjoy using these skills any more than I have to."

"But you wanted to join up so you could defend your ideals…" she mused, grasping the hilt of her sword.

"Yes. And if I am able to fight, to defend, I can save other people from having to do the same." Upon saying this, he bent down and picked up the hide shield one of the enemies had been carrying. He handed it to her. "Use this. We may have to face more, and they may be just as unreasonable. Defend yourself with this, and if they get close to you…" he paused, demonstrating the technique, "…deflect the blows to the side until I can get there."

"Hadvar…"

He held up a hand to stop her from saying more. "Let's keep moving."

After making their way through a store room with more Stormcloaks, they neared the torture chamber. Hadvar recognized what it was immediately. "Gods, I wish we didn't need these…" He looked visibly appalled, but there was no time to ask further, as the sounds of a scuffle could be heard within. Hadvar burst through the doorway to find a pair of Stormcloaks furiously attacking the head torturer and his assistant. Acting on instinct, the man swooped in and helped put them down, only to hear from the condescending head torturer how upset they had been by his treatment of their friends. Lisabeta looked around the room and noticed the cages containing dead bodies and shivered. It was even worse than dead bodies on a battlefield; these people could not defend themselves, and from what the torturer said, had been put through excruciating agony. And it only amused him. The monster! If Lisabeta had been good with a sword and a more vicious person, and if she thought Hadvar wouldn't strike her down for doing so, she would have slain that creep where he stood for the enjoyment he got out of making others suffer. As it was, all she could do was hope the keep came down on top of him as he refused to leave his post, "dragon" or not.

The assistant, unlike his boss, was more than eager to save his hide and make his escape with them. Before they could go, however, Hadvar pointed out that there were some useful items they might want to grab within the cages if they could be opened. The torturer dryly noted that he had lost the key to the cages a while ago, causing his charges much distress. A wave of nausea hit her again. Ugh, she had to tune him out. Everything he said gave her unnatural urges to slit his throat… Taking a lockpick from the table, she gave it her best shot, pretending she knew what she was doing but in reality only knowing a bit about what to do from books she had read. It took a while, being her first time, but the locks were not too difficult. Having broken a few, she finally twisted the small piece of metal just so until the door unlatched and swung open. She was face to face with a mage's corpse, causing her to pale. Taking a deep breath to steel her resolve, she reached in and plucked a small bottle of healing ointment from him with as little contact as possible as well as a spell tome. She would take no more and disrespect his body. The potion could be justified; they needed it to stay alive where the dead person would not. The book was meant for passing on knowledge. All the same, she whispered a brief prayer to Arkay that his soul may have found Aetherius.

She had to admit with no small degree of guilt that she was pleased when at least the torturer's assistant met his demise at the blades of the Stormcloaks deeper inside the keep despite Hadvar's assistance fending them off. Karma seemed to kick in almost as soon as she had that thought. One of the rebel soldiers noticed her and came rushing at her. Her eyes widened, and she held up her shield as a barrier between her and the enemy's sword. "I'm not here to fight!" she pleaded, but the soldier did not seem to care, driven mad by the frenzy of battle. She was able to block a succession of strikes before her tired arm gave out and she was left wide open. Thinking quickly, she did what the man did not expect and powered by fear, drove her blade upward through her attacker's chest, piercing his armor. Coughing a spurt of blood, he collapsed to the floor, dead. She had killed him.

Once Hadvar finished off the last rebel, he noticed her frozen, standing over the Stormcloak body. The girl was staring at the blood-stained blade in her hands with wide eyes, breathing rapidly. The man sighed; he had been afraid it would come to this, as much as he wished to spare her. Sheathing his own weapon, he walked over to where she was standing. "You had no choice, Lisabeta."

"I know…" she whispered, moving to sheath her own weapon. His rough hand stopped her, grabbing her wrist.

"Rule about maintaining your weapons: when you are done, wipe the blood off or it will rust," he said quietly, bending down to rip a piece of the dead man's tunic.

Numbly, she accepted the cloth and wiped her blade. "I don't want to maintain my weapon. Why didn't he stop when I asked? I was not threatening him!" Tears stung her eyes. The whole thing made no sense to her. In her daydreams of adventure, she imagined having to kill some creatures of the wild, undead, or perhaps knocking some bandits out cold. This, this corpse at her feet, she never intended…

She felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "There are men in this world who don't place much value in human lives. They kill without considering guilt or offense. These men were like that; you were simply walking with me and I wore the colors of another army, which was crime enough to condemn you. I pray to the Nine that I never become like them, my sense of right and wrong dulled by bloodlust. The line a soldier walks is a fine one between justified killing and murder." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Once we get out of here, I hope you never need to defend yourself again like this; you've lost enough of your innocence today. But if you do, I pray even more strongly to the Nine that you keep this in mind."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you, Hadvar. Once I get out of this mess, I doubt I will ever have need to pick up a sword, but I will never forget what you told me." She gave a sad smile. "If only all soldiers were like you, or that Stormcloak back in the ambush."

"Hmm?"

She clenched her hands. "He saved my life by blocking the arrows meant for me. He was a good man even though people on the same side as him have been trying kill me rather than save me. Just like you are a good man who protects me even though your side wanted me killed and mocked that man's sacrifice for me. If everyone were like you two, maybe we wouldn't have war at all."

Hadvar gave a short chuckle. "I wish it were that simple too, unfortunately life rarely is. You can only control what you do."

"Right…" Resolutely, she sheathed her sword. "I will only fight if they make it a fight, and if they force the choice between them and me, I'm going to make sure it ends up being me."

"That a girl," Hadvar murmured, nodding in approval. "Are you ready to press on? It shouldn't be much further."

"Just one more thing." Lisabeta knelt down and studied the dead youth's face. He could not have been much older than her, a light smattering of whiskers gracing his chin as if they were his first. Braided blonde hair in the traditional Nord style, green eyes staring blankly into space and expression frozen in shock from the instant she had pierced his heart. She wondered where he was from, if he had family, what he liked to do in his free time. She wondered how a boy like that came to a place like this, attacking anyone who did not wear his colors, even if they were no colors at all. Gently, she closed his eyelids while breathing a prayer to Arkay. He probably would have preferred a prayer to his Nord gods, but this was as good as she could do.

When she was done she began to gently unlace his gauntlets and pull them from his arms, followed by the pierced Stormcloak cuirass and his fur boots. She could feel Hadvar's puzzled gaze upon her. "I won't do this every time, but…I don't ever want to forget this lesson." Deep down, she knew Hadvar would not understand why she needed take the armor from the corpse and haul it around as they tried to escape; she herself was aware that it was completely illogical. Still, the need for closure in this way pulsed with every beat of her aching heart. There were no words.

Feeling guilty about taking it from his dead body, she reached behind her neck and removed the one adornment she had chosen to wear when she left home: her amulet of Mara. In trade for his armor, she fastened it around his neck, knowing full well that even the most traditional of Nords held Mara within their pantheon. May his soul so eager to kill know the calming love of her patron goddess. "Let's go, Hadvar."

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When she finished telling the story of the Stormcloak Armor, Alvor and Sigrid were silent at first. "Your nephew really helped me through a dark and trying time. You know, I owe him more than my life for what he did that day. He supported me as I transformed from a girl to a woman. Without him, well, things could have been very different." She reached out her hand and traced the jagged tear in the armor, the one she herself had put there with her own blade.  
"We've raised that boy like our own since his folks passed on. To hear you say that, it fills us with pride," Alvor tried to explain, looking to Sigrid who simply nodded. "We used to wonder if joining the army was good for the boy; he had such high ideals, and we all wondered what would happen if he was given an order he disagreed with. He adapted, but it sure gives us peace of mind to know he has not abandoned those ideals even as he serves the Empire."

She shook her head. "No, he serves Skyrim above all, the Empire is merely a tool to do so. And, no, he has not lost his way. I get the feeling that, if the Imperial Army asked him to do something deplorable, he would leave and find a different path. That is why I admire him."

There was a pause. "I know I haven't been willing to commit to either side of the civil war at this point, but as it drags on and more lives are being lost senselessly, I feel the time is coming when I need to step in and pick a side, for all its pros and cons, simply to end this before the Thalmor step in and sweep up what is left. It is as you say, Alvor, the Empire is foolish if they think swearing off Talos will keep them safe from the Aldmeri Dominion. The Stormcloaks are right to be angry at the Empire for it. But if Skyrim breaks off now, they will only be snatched up by the Altmer. It is better to stick together to stand against them. I think…" she paused with a heavy sigh. "I think it is time for me to write Hadvar and tell him I will meet him in Solitude to enroll with the army. I want to protect the people I have come to love while living here. By seeing Hadvar's example, I know that joining up does not necessarily have to corrupt me and what I stand for. I will stand with him and share his dream of a strong, unified Skyrim."


	3. Chapter 3: Bear Pelt

**Disclaimer:** Bethesda owns the overall plot, setting and characters sans Lisabeta. I also borrowed small portions of in-game dialogue in this chapter

 **Author's Note:** Amazing how many smaller stories fit into just escaping Helgen... Ah well, this is filled with warm fuzzies at the end. Couldn't find a way to work in the fact that I kept the bow he gave me as well...

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 **Bear Pelt**

Alvor and his family sat down with Lisabeta and Lucia to eat a quick breakfast before setting off to Riverwood once again. Even in this, a quick meal, the Imperial spared no expense, placing before her guests apples, braided bread, eggs, roasted salmon, and snowberry tarts. They had not eaten so well in a long time. At first, Alvor and Sigrid had worried that they were eating her out of house and home; the memory of her showing up at their doorstep with Hadvar wearing rags under the mismatched salvaged armor, needing food, healing items, and a place to sleep, was very vivid. However, the longer they stayed, the more the couple realized that this girl had truly made a name for herself, and enough coin to go with it. As strange as it was to believe, she was more than capable of taking care of them this time.

In fact, everything about the hospitality had been thoughtful and generous. The girls were able to play inside and outside (under the watchful eye of Lydia in the latter instances). Alvor had taken a much needed break from the forge to do some quality fishing in Lake Ilinalta. He caught a whole string of salmon and tried to present them to his hostess as thanks, but once Rayya had smoked them in the ovens, the fish magically ended up in his bags. "To remember me by," she had joked when he found them while packing his bags that morning. Sigrid had been content to sip tea on the balcony and read when she wasn't trying to help in the kitchen. Overall, everyone looked relaxed and content, and Lisabeta was glad to have given them that respite. She knew life was not easy in their small village.

"So, Dorthe," Lisabeta began brightly after swallowing a mouthful, "did you have a good time?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "It was fun to have someone to play with besides Frodnar. And Lucia is WAY smarter than him too!" Across the table, Lucia grinned. Dorthe had already explained to her about her neighbor with a punk attitude and stupid pranks to play on people. Those two had giggled often after sharing whispers, and now Lisabeta was wondering if they were gossiping about the poor boy…

"Mama, can Dorthe come visit us in Whiterun sometime? Then she could meet Mila and Lars and we could show her around the city…"

Lisabeta laughed. "I'm afraid I'd have to put everyone up in the inn if they came to visit me there, our house is so small. But any time they wish to visit, or even if they feel Dorthe may come and stay with my housecarl as an escort, they are certainly welcome."

"You are too gracious, Lisabeta," Sigrid replied with a smile.

"Like I've said, you are like family to me. You helped get me on my feet when I needed it most."

"And you've come such a long way since then," Alvor added, resting his chin on his knuckles. "I can't get over how much has changed since our first meeting. Just when I think I've seen everything in this estate, I turn a corner and find a new testament to your success. You must be an excellent adventurer."

"What can I say, after you taught me how to make proper weapons, Hadvar taught me how to use a sword and shield, and Faendal taught me how to use a bow, I was ready for crypt explorations, bounty hunts, work with the Companions… And thanks to you sending me to Whiterun, I met the Jarl and was assigned a few tasks from him. Tada! Thane of Whiterun. Sidgeir hears about it, asks me for some favors, tada! Thane of Falkreath. Still, Riverwood was where it all began."

"You forgot about the hunting!" Dorthe interrupted. "You've done a lot of hunting. I saw all the animals in the back room."

"Usually only when I'm attacked first. Then those beasts have it coming!" Lisabeta replied good-naturedly. "Did you like looking at the animals Dorthe?"

"Yeah! You never get to see them up close; usually they attack you and you run without looking."

"And which one was your favorite, I wonder?"

"The bear," she answered quickly. "It's HUGE. And really furry. It feels soft even though it could bite your head off."

"That is true," Alvor agreed. "It was a magnificent specimen. How many hunters did it take to bring it down?"

She raised two fingers and everyone gaped. "Why do you look so shocked? You already know the story behind that giant pile of fur."

"We do?"

"What, you mean Hadvar didn't tell you about the bear we slaughtered as it stood between us and escape from the dragon of Helgen?"

"Cousin Hadvar helped kill a bear?" Dorthe wondered. Alvor and Sigrid looked just as surprised.

"Oh yes, we had survived enough and we weren't going to let that stand in our way!"

"You ARE going to tell the story, right Mama?" Lucia urged eagerly.

She grinned. "Only if you wish." The girls nodded quickly. "As you say, girls…"

17th of Lost Seed, 4E 201

Having cleared out the enemy Stormcloaks, the two were free to press on. They were not safe for long; in the next cavern they had to fend off a hoard of frost spiders. Hadvar again did most of the work, but this time she entered the fray killing the dangerous arachnids without hesitation. It was certainly much easier to do than with people… She was careful to block the shots of numbing venom with her shield as a first priority, and when able she delivered vicious stabs through their thoraxes. By now, she realized the necessity of using only one hand with the sword while the other arm blocked, and though her initial thrusts were weak and off center, she grew steadier with each attempt. Once the spiders were dispatched, she tightly laced up her new gauntlets to prevent skin contact with the poison and began the process of harvesting what was left over from their fangs. Hadvar, who was taking a breather, looked on, amazed, as she worked, never expecting the inexperienced girl to attempt such a daring thing. She had, of course, read a book in Castle Bruma which outlined the process in great detail, and given her plans for delving into caves, thought it worthy information to study diligently.

Finally, they entered a large cavern that seemed to be outside the realm of the keep. A gently trickling stream flowing downhill seemed to guide them outwards, and they followed eagerly, ready to be done with the tunnels. As they approached the center, he suddenly waved for her to stop and be still. "Hold up. There's a bear just ahead. See her?" he whispered urgently, pointing. She followed where he gestured and noticed a massive ball of black fur. "I'd rather not tangle with her right now. We might be able to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow and watch where you step. Or, if you're feeling lucky, you could try to take her out with this…" He pulled his longbow from behind his back and presented it to her, along with several iron arrows. "Might take her by surprise. Go ahead. I'll follow your lead and watch your back."

She swallowed. He was trusting her with the decision? What if she made the wrong call and got them both killed by a stupid bear after they survived Armageddon with wings? She studied the bow in her hands. She had shot one before, recreationally of course, back in Bruma. Everyone in Bruma had some skill with a bow in a climate where growing your own food wasn't feasible. She wasn't a world class archer by any stretch of the imagination, but she was fairly certain she could get the arrow in the general area of the bear… But if they snuck and the bear heard them, they would be taken by surprise and potentially mauled… And once they got past the bear, wouldn't the draft blowing into the cave carry their scent with them?

"I don't want to leave any loose ends. Let's finish it right here," she decided, gripping the bow.

"All right. I'll let you take the first shot before charging in." She could see his hand grip the hilt of his sword in the dim light, anticipating the assault.

"One thing, though. I knew this would come in handy…" She crouched down and removed her pack, pulling out the flask of frostbite venom. "Here. Put some of this on your sword." He obeyed, and then carefully, she coated an arrow with the remaining substance. "I want to make this first shot really count. Now I just have to hit the thing…"

"You've got this." His tone was so confident, and she couldn't figure out why. Surely by now he realized she had led a rather sheltered life… He seemed to read the doubt on her face and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can't afford to think otherwise. You'll defeat yourself before you even begin."

"Ah, when you put it that way…"

"But I do actually think you will hit the mark," he interrupted. "For one, we have the advantage of surprise and you can take your time with the shot. Also, you've proven capable of many surprising things today. One more is almost expected, right?" With that he hauled her back to her feet.

She nodded and exhaled shakily before raising the bow to take aim, pulling the bowstring taut and closing one eye to lock in on the target. "Kynareth guide my shot," she mouthed silently, her pounding heart the only sound, then released.

The arrow found its target, though perhaps not in the most lethal location. Roaring in pain, the bear awoke. Hadvar had already rushed in before the bear could fully grasp the situation and sliced into the beast's neck. The fur was thick though, and he could not make a clean cut. Now fighting for survival, the bear attempted to swat at the soldier. It might have connected if its movements hadn't been slowed by the frostbite venom on the arrow and sword, allowing Hadvar time to dodge. Taking that opportunity, Lisabeta rushed in with her sword drawn and plunged it between its shoulder blades with all her strength so it would no longer rear up. "Hadvar! Finish it!" Nodding, the man put more force into a blow at the already partially severed neck. This time, it was enough. The bear went down with a shudder as blood began to stain the cavern floor.

The two stared, panting from the effort. Even for the veteran, it wasn't every day one took on a bear. It practically never happened to do so with only one inexperienced partner. "Good thinking with that venom, Lisabeta. That really slowed the brute down, huh?"

She wiped the sweat from her brow. "I'll have to thank the Count and Countess for letting me borrow that book from their library…"

Though he was still in a haze of adrenaline, that comment registered. He blinked. "Did you say Count and Countess?"

She dismissed it with a wave. "Acquaintances of mine in Bruma. Another story for another time." Still, that did little to erase the look of horror on his face. "Ummm, is that bad?"

"We almost killed an acquaintance of the rulers of Bruma..." he groaned, holding his head in his free hand. "Skyrim would collapse if Cyrodiil attacked, and killing an ally of Bruma's rulers might be enough to push them in that direction when combined with the Stormcloak uprising."

"Over one person?"

"Wars have been started for less."

That made her wonder. His love for his homeland was a driving force in every decision he made as a soldier. But how far would he go? She was almost afraid to ask, but she did so anyway. "Hadvar, if I told you I was going to go back and tell them exactly what happened, what would you do?"

He sighed. "Every decision comes with a consequence, and covering up the truth is just as bad as a lie. Someone would have to take the fall for it. I'd accompany you to Bruma and tell them I was responsible for you meeting the headsman."

"You wouldn't tell them your officers made you do it?" she asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "One life is worth far less than the entire army, of the entire province. If it is enough to pacify them, I would be content."

She looked at him with admiration and relief. "Well, I'm not going to go back and rat you out for almost killing me. Knowing my folks, they'd say I had it coming running off on my own like this. And Count and Countess may think I'm cute for studying their collections of artefacts and reading their books, but they wouldn't start a war over a servant. Mostly though, I don't want you to get into trouble. You're too nice."

The soldier looked uncomfortable. "You know, I didn't do all this because…"

"I know why you did everything you did. Don't worry about it!" she smiled brightly, then turned her attention to the deceased bear. "Man, that's a lot of meat…"

Finally, she got a laugh from him. "Well, it's a shame, but we'll have to leave it here for the wolves; there's no way we can carry all that with us, especially not if we want to make good time. We're almost out though." He pointed ahead at a glowing point of light. The exit. Thank Mara! Collecting the rest of their things, they pressed on, side by side, until they emerged into the light of day once again.

Lisabeta had never been gladder to see the sun, even though it was already low in the sky. Her reverie was interrupted by a roar, and both she and Hadvar quickly ducked behind a nearby boulder as a giant shadow passed overhead. With bated breath, they watched the winged destroyer of Helgen take flight far into the mountains. "Looks like he's gone for good this time," Hadvar breathed a sigh of relief. "But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back…"

Lisabeta nodded, but looked a bit at a loss. "I suppose that's all the adventure I need to have. I wonder if I can make it back to Bruma with what I snatched in the keep…"

Hadvar shook his head emphatically. "No. My aunt and uncle live in Riverwood. If you follow me there, you can get some rest and resupply. It isn't far. Though perhaps we should split up…"

It was her turn to shake her head. "No, we've come this far together, I don't see the harm in following you a little further." Her companion actually looked a bit relieved to hear that. So it was that the pair followed the twisting path down towards the river and northeast along the bank until they arrived at the tiny town just as the sun set. They didn't make it two steps before Alvor, who was working the forge, spotted them. He immediately dropped his hammer and wiped his hands.

"Hadvar, what are you doing here?" He eyed the young man head to toe. "And what happened to you? You look like you've been in a skirmish." Finally, he studied his nephew's follower. "And who is she?"

"Not out here," Hadvar hissed, eyes darting back and forth. "Let's go inside and I'll explain everything."

Once inside, with both exhausted survivors collapsed at the table and plates of steaming food before them, Hadvar did just that. The couple's little girl, Dorthe, had been shushed downstairs to avoid the conversation, but Alvor and Sigrid's eyes opened wide as Hadvar described the carnage they had escaped. Through his telling, Lisabeta's eyes began to grow heavy; it had undoubtedly been the longest day of her life. She suddenly snapped to attention though when Alvor spoke her name.

"Lisabeta, is it? The Jarl needs to know about this. Someone needs to relay the message, someone who was there. Hadvar will need to track down any remaining survivors of his unit, so he will not be able to do this. Will you?"

"Where is this Jarl?" she squinted.

"Whiterun. If you left at dawn, you'd be there by noon. Until he sends reinforcements, Riverwood is defenseless in the case of a dragon attack. We need his help."

That didn't sound too far. She could easily deliver the message. After all, these people were helping her, so she should return the favor. And what was one more day added to this very condensed adventure of hers? "Of course," she responded, followed by an escaped yawn.

"Thank you. Now, please, you should get some sleep." The bearded Nord gestured to a bed near the door.

"Thank you," she murmured, getting up only to face-plant on the mattress. She was out in a matter of minutes.

The next morning, as promised, she was up at dawn. Hadvar, who had stayed up longer discussing the situation surrounding Helgen, was still snoring away in bed, and though she wished she could say goodbye, she couldn't bring herself to wake him. He deserved to sleep. She got her directions from Alvor, and with a small lunch packed by Sigrid, she set out alone. Without a map, she quickly lost the path she was supposed to stay on, but coming up over a ridge, it was not hard to spot the soaring capital of Whiterun Hold crowning the sprawling plains. With the exception of the hill the city was built upon, everything was flat and empty, tall golden grasses waving in the breeze; it was an astounding sight for someone who had spent their entire life high in the mountains.

As Alvor described, she was indeed within the city walls by noon, having persuaded the guard of her valuable information in order to gain entrance. Apparently they already knew about dragons attacking and had closed the gates. Once inside, there was so much to see, hear, smell…but she couldn't think of that at the moment. She had an urgent mission to carry out. The girl did exactly as she had been asked, and the Jarl himself actually rewarded her for her efforts with a steel chest-plate before asking his own favor of her. It seemed she would not be returning to Bruma as soon as she had thought…

The sun had just set when she knocked on Alvor's door, having returned from the hold capital. There was rustling, and before long Dorthe opened it. "You're back!" The rest of the family was right behind her, but much to her disappointment, she noticed Hadvar was not among them. When asked, Alvor and Sigrid simply replied that he was still out searching the ruins of Helgen. She told the family everything over yet another of Sigrid's generous meals, from the trip to the meeting with the Jarl to her new task. Finally she crashed in their bed for another night before finding a companion to help her tackle the job.

She accomplished that goal the next day, securing Faendal's loyalty after foiling a plot to frame him for a particularly venomous letter. Before actually attempting to crack Bleak Falls Barrow, she and the wood elf practiced archery and cleaned up a mine full of bandits. The second day, they did what they set out to do, not only recovering the Dragon Stone in question but also a valuable trinket for one of the townspeople. Through those two days, no sign of Hadvar. It made her feel…sad. Had he rejoined his unit without saying goodbye? There was so much she wanted to tell him still… It also made her nervous; what if something had happened to him while he was out in the wreckage? She found it difficult to sleep despite the exhaustion assailing her body. Perhaps tomorrow she and Faendal could backtrack to Helgen and look for him…

Once she was out though, she was out. It took the gentle shaking of her shoulder to wake her from her deep sleep. Slowly opening her bleary eyes, she found herself face to face with Hadvar. She blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Hadvar, you're back…"

"Sorry I was gone so long. I had hoped I would catch you before you left Riverwood for good. Though I hear you won't be heading back to Bruma right away," he smiled. "Come on, breakfast is ready."

Throughout her final meal with the family, she described her adventure in the Barrow, knowing full well from Hadvar's stories on the road that the place thoroughly creeped him out since he was a boy. "Don't worry about the draugr sneaking down in the middle of the night to get you; I re-killed the lively ones!" she joked, amused at how he squirmed. Dorthe, on the other hand, was enthralled with the account, asking countless questions about what she had encountered within. She felt almost guilty when Alvor and Sigrid exchanged a glance that clearly read "she'd better not go exploring in the barrow…" When she finished, she looked at Hadvar expectantly. "So, what do you plan on doing now?"

"The Imperial commanders want me to report back in Solitude for a new assignment," he declared. "I will need to leave soon."

"Oh, I see…" She was secretly sad she couldn't get him to go with her to Whiterun to deliver the stone or to see her to Bruma. He must have noticed.

"You still have an errand to run. I'm glad to hear Faendal has been helping you out until you get more experience. You shouldn't have any problems getting back to Cyrodiil at this rate."

"Yeah…"

He paused. "Are you leaving today?" She nodded. "Then I might not be here when you pass through again. There is something I need to give you." He stood up and beckoned her to follow him outside and around the porch to the forge. There, on the workbench: a bear pelt.

Her eyes opened wide. "Is that…"

"Yeah, the very one. Just look at the mangled neck! When I found the rest of my unit, they were severely lacking for food. I remembered the cave we came out of, and took them there so they could eat

what we had killed. I claimed the pelt though. I figured, after all, we did the work of dispatching the thing. While we got regrouped, I worked on cleaning it up. Now, I want you to have it." He grabbed it and presented it to her.

It frustrated her that tears were already forming in her eyes. Stupid female emotions… "Why?" She hugged the pelt to her chest.

He felt an unwelcome lump in his throat. How was he supposed to explain what she had become to him? He had only been obligated by guilt to get her out of Helgen, but after what she shared with him, they forged a connection. He imagined it was like having a younger sister, though he never had that experience. He wanted her to be safe. He wanted her to be happy. But he would never be there to see those things through as he was called in the complete opposite direction of Bruma. And he was fast coming to understand that he might never see this girl again.

"It's cold in Bruma," he finally said roughly, averting his gaze. "It'll keep you warm."

Suddenly, arms flung around him, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing tightly. "I love you too big brother. Thank you for everything."

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"Oh yeah, I remember seeing him give you that. I was watching from the window!" Dorthe exclaimed. "I thought he was trying to court you…"

"DORTHE!" Sigrid screeched, casting a disapproving look.

Lisabeta just laughed. "No, nothing romantic about an old bear pelt. It was just that we killed it together, and that was the first time I had ever hunted something that could kill me! In fact, if you look closely at the neck, I bet you can see where Hadvar hacked at it with his sword…"

"Ooh, I'm gonna go look!" Lucia jumped up, with Dorthe following close behind. Lisabeta just continued to chuckle.

"There wasn't a whole lot the taxidermist could do to fix Hadvar's rough treatment of the bear," she grinned, taking a sip of her long-ignored beverage.

"I had no idea. He never mentioned a bear when he talked about your escape," Alvor said. "Does he know you ended up turning it into a trophy?"

"No, I don't think so. Last I wrote to him, I was still carrying it with me everywhere and using it as a blanket just like he wanted. But I figured once I had a place to display it I would retire it before it got damaged. After all, that one bear pelt is worth more than a hundred snow bear pelts put together." _It protected me when he was no longer there to do so._


	4. Chapter 4: Slaughterfish

**Disclaimer:** Characters sans Lisabeta and setting are property of Bethesda.

 **Author's Note:** This was kind of a fun exercise wherein we expose one of our dragonborn's greatest weaknesses: her skipping merrily into danger completely oblivious because she is so easily excited. This is actually based on something that happened to me in game that I thought would make for a good story. Poor, poor Faendal getting stuck babysitting...

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 **Slaughterfish**

Lisabeta was greatly honored to be invited by Faendal to his wedding ceremony in Riften, and she made sure to attend. After all, it wouldn't do to miss the event when she had greatly helped him woo his bride… He was even wearing the copper and onyx circlet she had given him the day he departed her service!

When first she met Faendal, he was just a humble Bosmer working the lumber mill and sneaking in conversations with Camila whenever he could. There were those in the town who looked down on him for his race, but the young Imperial woman treated him with kindness and genuinely enjoyed his company. His path to romance was further blocked by Sven, a rival in love. The xenophobic Nord had tried to sabotage his efforts to win Camilla's hand by writing a nasty letter and claiming it was from the elf, but unfortunately for the bard, he asked the newcomer from across the border to deliver the note. It made it to Camilla all right, along with a whole explanation of his scheme. Sven was no longer in the running for her affections, and when Lisabeta informed him of this, Faendal was so grateful he gave her a few coins he had saved up from working at the mill. It didn't end there; Faendal became a friend, mentor, and companion during the first days of her journey.

That had been about six months ago. His exploits alongside Lisabeta earned him fame, his trip to retrieve Lucan's golden dragon claw with her earned him even more admiration from Camila, and since he returned to Riverwood bearing Ancient Nordic weapons, jewels, and even dragon bone and scales, no one could contest his worth as Camila's suitor. That suited the two of them just fine. The Bosmer stopped working at the mill and took up a position as the village hunter, with Camilla helping negotiate sales through her brother's store. Though neither individual was a Nord, their arrangement showed Nordic practicality. More importantly though, it showed love. Not everyone could say that. As a friend to both of them, Lisabeta couldn't be happier.

Now, the couple was standing with their friend on Lakeview's spacious porch, which overlooked Lake Ilinalta. Lisabeta had invited them to use her manor as a honeymoon of sorts, being there only to greet them and then giving them space while Rayya handled the rest. The nostalgic Colovan Brandy had already been poured, and they sipped while they toured the space they would have access to for the week. At the moment, they were getting a good view of the lands surrounding the estate.

"The land here is so beautiful!" Camilla breathed, eagerly grasping the hand of her husband. "These forests and hills remind me so much of Cyrodiil. And the lake…" Setting down her goblet and raising her other hand to shield her eyes, she looked down the slope to see the sunlight dancing off Ilinalta's waves. "That might make for some good swimming…" A mischievous smile crossed her face as she looked up at Faendal, making Lisabeta blush at the implication. It WAS a honeymoon after all.

Judging by his serious countenance, it seemed he was thinking of something else entirely. "Only if you are very careful, my love, and only if I am there to watch out for you. I'm sure Lisabeta remembers just how dangerous these waters are." He cast a meaningful look at his hostess.

The girl frowned. Faendal…Ilinalta…danger… Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "Right! I definitely did not forget about that time you and your magnificent archery skills saved me from those diabolical pests!" The Bosmer raised a skeptical eyebrow, knowing full well his friend had in fact forgotten about that incident. Sometimes it surprised him that she still had all her limbs… She didn't notice that expression though. "Faendal is right, you need to check the water first."

Camilla did not follow. "What pests?"

A wicked grin crossed her face. "Oh, it would be much more informational to show you rather than tell you. Follow me." Beckoning, she led the couple back downstairs and to the doors of her trophy room, coming to rest in front of a particularly nasty-looking fish mounted on the wall outside. "Observe, my dear Camilla: Slaughterfish. Aptly named because they will slaughter you if you don't slaughter them first. They usually swim in packs and are quick to strip you of your flesh." The young woman gaped at the massive jaws lined with sharp teeth and shuddered. Even the eyes seemed to follow her… "As a matter of fact, this particular specimen was taken from this very lake. Have I got a perfect cautionary tale for you; I'll even tell it at my own expense! I was being rather dense…"

"Oh, this ought to be good," Faendal crossed his arms with a smirk, which earned him a smack from his wife. "Hey, you'll see what I mean!"

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 **19th of Last Seed, 4E 201**

Faendal and Lisabeta finally emerged from the murky darkness of the Embershard Mine (though to be fair it wouldn't have ended up so murky if the practical Imperial hadn't decided to carry off every torch she encountered). They found that despite their work clearing out the mine and digging up a great deal of iron ore, the sun was still relatively high in the sky. They had gotten an early start just before the break of dawn, and even with Faendal giving her archery tips as they went, they had routed the violent bandits without any real difficulty and gathered up the valuables they had stashed.

Lisabeta was amazed at the humble wood elf's skills with his bow, though she knew that most Bosmer learned those abilities at a young age given their hunt-centric culture. Even when she was clumsy and missed a target while hiding in the shadows, he was always able to pick them off one by one with expert shots before she could draw her sword. Bandits, she decided, were a lot harder to hit than sleeping bears. Still, she noticed her aim improving with the practice, and she was starting to build strength in her bowstring arm that kept the shots firing straight. Perhaps the biggest lesson she had learned while in the mine was to snipe enemies from the cover of darkness. It didn't feel right to attack someone who couldn't see you, not after just recently coming to terms with killing people in general. Faendal reassured her though that they had approached the guard at the entrance with no killing intent and had been attacked with killing intent. Also, the guards who had followed her to Riverwood from Whiterun reported the group's violent attacks on those straying too far off the beaten path. _"_ _There are men in this world who don't place much value in human lives."_ Those were Hadvar's words, and they apparently fit this group. It was no time to doubt.

"Still have plenty of daylight," Faendal observed, looking to his companion. "I assume we aren't going into the barrow now?"

She shook her head. "I want a good night's rest before we go, and we'll have to sell off this stuff to Lucan so we have space in our packs to pick up some artefacts in there…" Her eyes flickered with excitement at the prospect of excavating items from an ancient Nord burial crypt.

"Will we head back then and prepare?"

Lisabeta shook her head again. "Too early. I want to explore a bit while I have the chance! I'll be back in Bruma before I know it, and I hate wasting opportunity. I mean, if we get the Dragonstone and claw tomorrow, I'll have it delivered the day after and just like that this whole adventure will be over!"

Faendal studied his new friend carefully. "Why are you in such a rush to go back? I mean, an extra day or two to take in the sights of Whiterun, can't hurt can it?"

This was met with a sigh that spoke more of obligation than desire. "The way things have been going, I might be pressing my luck. I mean, my parents, if they knew where I was…"

"Wait, you didn't tell your parents you were coming?!" Faendal frowned in disapproval. "You're rather reckless, aren't you?"

"They would have said 'no'!" she protested, holding up her hands in self-defense. "Didn't you ever sneak off without telling your parents?"

"No. When I knew it was time for me to strike out for new opportunity beyond Valenwood, I told them my intentions and I got their blessings. Helps alleviate the feelings of guilt."

"You're also a guy. And a really good archer…" she muttered, now flushing with embarrassment. "They wouldn't have held you back…"

"And you think it was better to leave when you weren't prepared?" he challenged. "If you hadn't met Hadvar…"

"I was going to stay on the main road until I got to civilization, then hire a mercenary! Running into dragons was not something anyone could predict, and this Stormcloak uprising is being kept hush-hush across the border. And I certainly wouldn't go bandit hunting on a normal day!" She drew herself up tall. "You could wait until you were fifty to finally be ready and not be tied down, but for me, it doesn't work that way. In two months I'll be 19. I'm lucky I'm not already engaged at the least. But it will happen soon, and then when do I get to have my adventure? They'll have me popping out children and that will be the end of that." She shut her eyes in frustration. "I couldn't wait any longer."

To that, Faendal had no answer. Even though the girl was being whimsical and getting into all manner of trouble, he had to acknowledge her circumstances were not the same as his. He thought of Camilla, who despite her curiosity and bravery in moving to a new province was rarely allowed out of her brother's sight. Her place firmly entrenched in the store helping, she was already attracting suitors (and he was guilty as charged in that account). Lisabeta was about the same age, the only difference was that she would not be told to stay home and forget about her dreams. Before he realized it, he was shaking his head. "Stubborn as a Nord. Let's hope you are just as tough. You're making progress in that category."

She looked back up at him. "Are you just saying that to be nice?"

"No. Your shots are getting cleaner and more accurate. It's actually quite amazing how quickly you are making gains in your ability. I think you'll be fine as long as you keep a partner with you as backup for the time being."

Her response was a nod. "Even I'm not that reckless…"

"Good. Now, where would you like to go explore? I think along the southern bank of the White River into Lake Ilinalta would be a good, quick trip with some nice scenery. I know the area pretty well."

"All right, let's go on an adventure!" Excitedly, she shifted the weight of the pack on her shoulder and took off excitedly.

"Will you slow down!"

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Their afternoon trek proved to be more eventful than anticipated. As they had headed along the southern bank, they came across a hunter's camp. The owner was a bit jumpy, though quickly sheathed his dagger once they declared their intentions. When asked why he was so nervous, he pointed them further to the west, where he had run into what appeared to be a necromancer performing rituals near the river. Lisabeta's normally relaxed features hardened; necromancy was an illegal school of magic, and she'd heard plenty of tales about despicable Mannimarco the Worm King. It didn't take long to get it through her head that it was her duty to sort this person out and give those bodies a proper burial. Ever practical Faendal first inquired whether this necromancer was working alone or with others, what kind of attacks he had used, what kind of terrain he was settled on, and all manner of details. Even the excitable Lisabeta had to acknowledge the wisdom in his questions.

With little persuading, she convinced Faendal that they could overpower the lone wolf on the condition that they had an escape plan in case more were hidden in the area. As they moved in on the site of his ritual, they realized he had the advantage of being situated high on a slope along the river, so surprise and stealth were not in their favor. It mattered not; she intended to speak with him first if possible, filled with confidence that if negotiations went sour Faendal would have an arrow in the necromancer's chest in an instant.

So she approached, calling out so as not to startle him too badly. "Hey, Mister Necromancer, we need to talk…"

The figure cloaked in dark robes snapped his attention from his ritual altar where he had been chanting over a skeleton and emitting a sickly purple glow from his hands. The light did not fade, to her dismay. "You never should have come here," he snarled, instantly launching into attack mode. She never expected him to be so hostile so quickly. It was all she could do to pull her shield up and side-step his magical attack. Just as planned, her side-step gave Faendal the opening he needed to fire his shot. As the dark mage staggered, blood spurting from the new wound, she turned and ran her sword through him. His enraged struggling ceased in moments.

Frowning severely, she pulled back the hood and studied the deceased Dunmer. His robes bore an eerie green emblem of a skull across the front, a symbol that marked his specialization as a necromancer. And apparently, he hadn't been one for talking. She grabbed the dagger from him and stashed it in her pack before turning to address the skeleton lying on the stone ritual table. "This person needs a proper burial, but…" she broke into an embarrassed shrug, "touching dead things creeps me out! Think the hunter will take care of it for us?"

Faendal rolled his eyes. For Bosmer, blood, guts and bones were all a part of daily life, as the taking of plant life was forbidden. He'd easily take those bones as if they were sticks, not worried one bit about any taboo. "Never mind, I've got it. Do you have a shovel?" She started to say something, then sheepishly shook her head. He cast an unamused look. "So you came out here determined to give this dead person a burial but didn't even have a shovel?" She shook her head again, this time kicking the ground with her toe. His sigh was one of pure exasperation; this was like the material for a bad comedy act… "I guess then we'll just have to ask the hunter and call it payment for keeping the area safe for him, huh?"

"I like that plan," she agreed, turning to study a book left on the table by the necromancer and leafing through the pages in keen interest. The dilemma was already far from her mind.

Even that was not the last straw for the wood elf, who was starting to think he agreed to help the Imperial girl far too quickly. What came next was.

As they headed down the slope back towards the river, she squinted against the sun's reflection on the water. "Hey, Faendal, do you see those stones sticking out of the river? Do they look natural to you?"

He shielded his eyes. "I see what you mean. I've never noticed them before while out hunting. They look like cut stones. Strange, what would those be doing in the river?"

"Something man-made, sunk to the bottom…ruins!" she determined, a grin spreading across her face. "All right! I wonder if they've already been picked over? Ancient Nord, perhaps?" Without wasting a moment to think, she flew down the rest of the embankment and ripped off her armor before plunging into the cold water. She didn't even hear Faendal shouting at her as she took a breath and dove in the direction of the stones.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she nearly squealed in excitement and lost all her air supply; it was a circular ruin with stairs spiraling down to a sort of courtyard. And there, under the stairway, was a chest. Getting her bearings, she came up for air only to dive back down a second later. She kicked her way down to the chest and pulled the lid open, finding a few old coins still scattered across the bottom, which she snatched up. As she began to head for the surface once more, she ripped a few Nordic barnacles from the walls which she noted would be useful for alchemy.

She took a deep breath as she broke through the water's surface, blinking as her eyes adjusted back to the sunlight. Her first reaction was to look around for her companion, and as soon as she saw him, she wished she hadn't. His face was stormy, and his clothes were soaking wet as he stood on a small island half-way in the river. He had an arrow notched in his ready bow and it was pointing in her direction! "F-Faendal? If you want the treasure that badly, you can have it…" she stammered, treading water and calculating how effective it would be to dive back underwater and make a break for it.

But he growled something completely different. "Look. Down." She did without thinking (How stupid! That could have been a trick!), only to notice two vicious-looking fish floating near her; each had an arrow neatly sticking out of their ribs.

"What are those?" she asked, frowning in disgust at their gross faces and primitive design.

"Slaughterfish," he responded deliberately, the frown never leaving his face. "Or, if you prefer, the things that nearly killed you while you were busy playing adventurer."

"Oh…" She didn't know what else to say to that, so she did what came naturally and grabbed the slimy creatures by their tails. The scales could be useful… Then, awkwardly, she paddled her way over to the island where Faendal was still standing vigilant. His glare could pierce armor. "I've never heard of a Slaughterfish. Don't really have any up in the Jeralls," she attempted lamely. "Who knew something so archaic…"

"You didn't wait before charging in and you almost got killed. If I wasn't such a damn good archer, they would have eaten you alive!" he shouted, finally throwing down his bow in disgust. "You are an irresponsible walking disaster! How Hadvar ever dealt with you is beyond me!"

"Faendal, I'm sorry…" she began, eyes widening, but he interrupted.

"And you think you should go into an old Nord burial crypt to retrieve this artifact, stopping a group of bandit thugs and getting through ancient traps? With your attention span? I think you'd better just tell the Jarl he's got the wrong person and go back home to Bruma where you belong!" He finished, out of breath from his rant, only to find tears running down her face. No, he was NOT going to feel pity; she needed to hear this from someone before she walked into danger one time too many.

"I…I know you're right. I get so excited for all these experiences I've always dreamed of having, and I don't think straight," she admitted, roughly wiping away the tears.

"And the next one is going to be your last if you don't get it in check."

She took an unsteady breath. "Just get me back to Riverwood. I won't ask anything else of you."

He raised an eyebrow. "And then what are YOU going to do?"

The girl bit her lip and sniffled. "I'll go back to Whiterun. I have a lot of ingredients for alchemy and I've read a few books. Maybe I can get a couple experiments to succeed and can sell off the potions I make. Then I could find a mercenary…"

"You won't just give it up?" he pressed.

Lisabeta shook her head. "Both Lucan and the Jarl entrusted this job to me. And I need to prove to them and to myself that I can do it. The way you talk, I'm scared to go into that Barrow. But I should be. If I wasn't, you're right, I'd never walk back out. I have to be better than this." She turned away. "I need to go get my armor. Do you think the river is clear to cross?"

"Yeah, should be for now."

"Then let's cross and take the path back to town."

They did as she suggested, and the whole way back she was silent. She moved quickly, but at the same time without any of her normal spark. Her eyes darted back and forth as if scouting for trouble. Once, a wolf leapt from the tall grasses, but she had her hand already on the hilt of her sword and was prepared to fend it off until Faendal could put an arrow in its neck. She studied the Bosmer as he efficiently skinned the beast and butchered the most important parts of meat from it; she knew soon she wouldn't be able to rely on his expertise and would have to figure it out for herself.

Finally they arrived back in the village. She paused at the gate, heaving a sigh. "Thank you for everything you've done today, Faendal. I've learned a lot from you. And I'm still breathing, so that's also good." She shifted uncomfortably and removed the pack from her shoulder. "Here. I think you should have these. Mount it on your wall or something. After all, it takes a really impressive archer to shoot a fish in the river." Gingerly taking the gross creatures by the slimy tails, she held out the slaughterfish.

He accepted the gift with both hands, unafraid of touching the slimy rest of the bodies. "Seared slaughterfish is rather tasty. Maybe I'll stuff one and eat the other."

"Should impress Camilla."

He huffed. "Yeah, well…"

"I'll make sure to say goodbye when I head through this way on my way back to Bruma." She abruptly turned and began walking away in the direction of Alvor's house.

"No, I'll see you in the morning. Bright and early." What was he saying? He could scarcely believe the words that came from his mouth. Judging by her expression, neither could she. Well, if she was going to go through with it… And if it involved helping Camilla get her brother's claw back… And she HAD been extra careful on the way back… No, he could try and rationalize it, but the truth was that he wasn't being logical in this at all.

She visibly perked up. "You mean it?"

"No, I'm leading you on to crush your dreams," he grumbled.

"At sunrise then. I'll be ready! Meet you by the bridge out of town!" Her usual grin was back in place as she skipped the rest of the way to the house. Gods, was he going to regret this?

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"And once I told him about the house I was building over here, he pulled out this stuffed slaughterfish he'd been saving in one of his chests. Told me it was a housewarming gift with a 'message'. I know he still has the other one in your guys' place," Lisabeta concluded, smiling up at the ferocious fish.

"And you HAVE been careful, haven't you? I'd hate to hear from your other followers that they've been having to work overtime keeping you alive," Faendal questioned pointedly.

She shrugged. "I've been doing my best. I know I'm not perfect, but no one has threatened to quit on me since you. I like to think you got me trained."

Camilla giggled. "Faendal, I've never seen you so serious! You should ease up on the poor girl; it seems she's been doing just fine for herself."

He exhaled, relaxing his features. "You're right. Slaughterfish are the least of her worries now, and she's still here."

"Say, here's an idea: why don't you go slaughterfish hunting while you're here and show Camilla how it's done?" Lisabeta suggested brightly. "Then this time you could actually enjoy that seared slaughterfish for dinner."

A proud smirk crossed his lips. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea."


	5. Chapter 5: Dragonstone Etching

**Dragonstone Etching**

There was a knock at the door, and before Lisabeta, then reading in her study, could react, Belrand was already scurrying to receive the guest as her steward. So like him, she mused with a smile, moving with such gusto despite his advanced age. And it was also no surprise when he could be heard greeting the guest with an enthusiastic "Oho! A visitor from the big city, eh? Welcome to Windstadt Manor, Dean Gemane. Lady Pacelli has been expecting your arrival."

That was her cue. Slipping a mark in her book, she set it on the end table and made her way to the entrance hall where she was greeted by a beaming Belrand (oh how the man loved company!) and a damp-looking Giraud Gemane."

"Greetings, Giraud. How was your trip?"

"Soggy, as you might notice," he said, but his tone was still upbeat. "I am glad your abode is not too far from Solitude. I am not as young as I used to be…" When he said that, she noticed with a start that he indeed was beginning to get a few gray hairs. Funny how time passed so quickly!

"Ach, I'm the one who should be saying that! Just passed my 73rd winter. You're still a young pup!" Belrand joked, reaching out to take Giraud's cloak to hang near the fire.

Giraud studied the steward. "Say, you seem familiar…from years ago, though."

"Lived in Solitude for many years as a sellsword out of the Winking Skeever. I'd see you college folk come down for a drink on occasion. Enjoyed my fair share of Burning Festivals in my time as well."

"Ah, that does sound right. Then I take it that was how you met Lady Pacelli?"

"Oh yes, back when she was still a young maiden in need of an extra blade and a pack mule!"

Lisabeta pretended to look offended. "And what am I now, pray tell?"

Belrand just smiled sweetly. "A charming matron with the same bright eyes, just a couple more children."

"Hmph, that's about right." She paused. "Say, Belrand, will you go check on my dear husband when you are done handling Dean Gemane's things and make sure he hasn't fallen in trying to fish up dinner for tonight?"

"Of course! Though Erik's just as likely to be tending to the garden. For a man who hated the farm, he's always kept a thing for working a piece of earth…" Belrand chuckled and shuffled out of the room, leaving Lisabeta and Giraud.

"Ah, Belrand is such a dear," the woman said with a smile. "Even when I hired him the first time he was already up there in age for a mercenary, still eking out a living from his spot in the tavern. Darn good warrior, excellent with spells and sword, but I still worried about him. Hasn't got family to take him in, so as soon as Windstadt was completed and our work was done, I took him on as my steward. Let him live out his golden years here in relative safety swapping tales with Valdimar over ale and a game of cards."

"And he makes an excellent greeter," Giraud agreed. "I'd expect no less from you, helping in all things, Lisabeta."

"Naturally. Now, what you've come here to see. Right through these doors then." She led the man into the main hall, and it took him several seconds to soak it all in.

"This is…an impressive place you have here," Giraud admitted, looking around the massive dwelling from his position. Display cases were filled with old artifacts no matter which direction he turned. The entire left side of the manor was converted into a greenhouse for growing alchemical agents, which could then be combined in the spacious, well-equipped alchemy lab in the back. Perhaps the most interesting part for the Dean of History and Trainer of Speech from the Solitude Bard's College was the library tower; multiple floors of books comprised this woman's personal library, one whose completeness could rival the College itself. "Truly the abode of an intellectual and researcher."

She beamed. "I try. I've admired the collection of the Count and Countess of Bruma since I was a little girl, and always wanted to create a collection even more impressive. I suppose my activities in the last few years have certainly lent themselves to assembling so many interesting items. But the one thing I have in mind for you is on the second story. Follow me, if you would."

As Lisabeta led Gemane up the stairs, she continued. "Obviously the Bard's College is of great importance to me as preservers of history and culture, and I value my membership in your organization. I want to be sure this item I have in mind ends up in your care when I leave this world." She turned to the back wall of the upper level, stopping before a large glass display case. Inside was a long sheet of paper, tacked down to the bottom to keep it from curling up. The paper itself did not have value, but rather the etching it bore done in charcoal was what made Giraud's eyes pop. He'd seen the symbol on the bottom before in his studies of ancient Nord history: the head of a dragon.

"It looks like some kind of map," he mused, studying the paper intently. "Incredible accuracy of the region of Skyrim for such an old relic…but what do these 'x's denote?"

"Dragon burial sites," Lisabeta explained, leaning against the wall. "Have you ever seen the strange circular mounds in the wilds of Skyrim?"

"Yes, I've seen one or two in my travels. All in the locations shown here?"

"Yes. Though, you won't find those mounds occupied any longer. The dragons that slept in them broke out in the events of the past few decades." The woman seemed to recall something, then laughed lightly. "Actually, this map is what started the whole affair. I was all set to run a warning to the Jarl of Whiterun and head back to Bruma, but he got me involved in running an errand for Farengar Secret-Fire, the court wizard. By Mara, I should have had the guts to tell him he had the wrong person for the job, what with the bandits and the draugr. Oh, especially the draugr!"

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20th of Last Seed, 201 4E

"Ugh, why didn't I tell Farengar he had the wrong person!" Lisabeta moaned, wiping her blade hastily in the snow, staining it red with the blood of the bandits camped outside the barrow. As usual, they'd started it, firing arrows with no provocation, but she and Faendal had finished it.

"I told you so," Faendal reminded pointedly as he lowered his bow. "It's not too late…"

"We made promises, now we have to keep them." The young Imperial shook her head stubbornly. With a resolute 'click', she sheathed her sword once more.

"No, YOU made promises. I have no such obligation…"

"But here you are anyway. Let's be real, Faendal, you just wanted to impress Camilla, didn't you?"

That remark was enough to get the Bosmer off her back. All he could do was sputter his denial, but she had already started climbing the stairs.

The sun was higher than she would have liked; halfway up to Bleakfalls Barrow they'd encountered an abandoned watchtower that was not quite as abandoned as they would have liked. More bandits, more loot…and at the rate she was going, she needed the loot. Despite Faendal's protests she'd grabbed anything of value and hauled it back down the mountain between the two of them to sell for coin before trying again. She'd also found some pieces of iron armor that vaguely fit her, and she hastily switched into them, favoring the better protection even if it weighed her down somewhat. Faendal turned down the offer of iron armor of his own, favoring the furs and leathers that kept him nimble on his feet which they had acquired back at Embershard. Now, more fighting before they'd even set foot in the tombs? This was going to be such a long…

Her thoughts ground to a halt as she reached the top of the stairs. Massive arches towered overhead, constructed of seemingly impossibly large stones. Stairs led to different levels of the terrace, with look-out walkways sticking out of all sides. Lisabeta could not help audibly gasping at the sight. Slowly, as if in a trance, she walked down the terrace soaking in every sight that greeted her eyes. Once at the bottom, she turned her gaze to the north. An azure expanse of water stretched before her far in the distance, with no end. The Sea of Ghosts. Then, to the east. There was Riverwood, a tiny collection of houses below. Hadvar had mentioned looking up at the barrow as a boy, but here she was looking down on them! Finally, to the south. The Jeralls jutted up in a huge barrier, but there was also a large lake shimmering in the sunlight. Lake Ilinalta, where they had just visited, right? She turned again to look up at the main entrance. A pair of sturdy iron double-doors, elegantly carved, were built into the side of the mountain.

"Your eyes are going to pop out," Faendal commented nonchalantly as he strolled up behind her, making her jump despite his crunching footsteps in the snow. She had of course been so enraptured with the vistas!

"This…this is the most amazing thing hands down I have ever seen in my entire life!" Lisabeta gushed, dropping her pack from her shoulders and digging around for her journal. "How could the ancient Nords have built such a structure? And the place they chose couldn't have any more outstanding backdrops! Now where is my charcoal…"

"Uh, I admit that this place is pretty impressive, even after looking up at it for the last 5 years, but we don't have time to journal right now. Our mission, remember?"

"What good is a mission if you don't enjoy the experience?" she retorted, crying in triumph when she found the leather-bound book and charcoal. "Just a quick sketch of the architecture. No more than 5 minutes, I promise."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

"Soak it all in, of course! And if we die, well, at least we got to see this before we went to Aaetherius."

"Cheery." Faendal was rolling his eyes, but his companion paid him no mind, hastily opening to the next blank page and sketching madly. Instead of looking around, Faendal simply watched her work. She was no artist, he could tell that immediately from the wavy lines and inaccurate perspective, but she still worked eagerly to capture even the slightest image of the place that had so beguiled her.

Just when he was starting to tire of watching her draw what looked like crude sketches of abstract art, she snapped the book shut with a satisfied smile. "I'll do the journaling later, if we make it."

"Great. Can we go and take care of the bandits now?"

She held up a finger. "Not just bandits, remember? We've got a Dragonstone to locate as well. Two birds with one stone."

"More like two dragons with a blunt stick," he muttered, heading to the doors.

"Hey, I heard that!"

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

So far, so good. The most they'd had to worry about had been a few bandits easily picked off while deep in their conversation (after eavesdropping for a good portion of it and learning one named Arvel went on ahead) and some skeevers. Lisabeta was largely relieved. Hadvar had told her about his nightmares as a child, of draugr, living dead, climbing down the mountain to get him, but she hadn't even seen any corpses to speak of. Just…spider webs?

Frowning, she pulled out her sword to slash it away. Faendal cleared his throat, and when she looked at him, he flashed a meaningful glance. Yes, where there were such thick concentrations of webs, frostbite spiders were near. What she didn't expect was the voice, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Help! Somebody cut me down from here!"

Peering through a crack in the wall without entering the room, Faendal spied the source of the noise: a Dunmer trapped in a web, squirming madly to escape. Meanwhile, Lisabeta had swallowed a small vial of resist poison potion and was readying her bow. No spiders in sight on the ground, but based on her knowledge of frostbite spiders… She notched her arrow and aimed up at the ceiling. Faendal could hear her inhale sharply, and see her arms tremble a bit. The thing hovering on the ceiling was a MONSTER, clearly the oldest spider in the crypt.

"Are you ready to take it?" she whispered, licking her lips nervously.

"I've got your back," he assured, swiftly notching his own arrow. "We'll take it, now that we have stolen the element of surprise from it. I'll wait for your lead."

Nodding, she recalibrated her shot, said a prayer to Kynareth, and fired. The result was instantaneous. The goliath descended from the ceiling, clicking angrily. It had grown a thick exoskeleton, and the shot had not done as much damage as she had hoped. Dropping her bow in favor of her sword and shield, she rushed in to give it a few hacks while Faendal distracted it with another arrow. It was frustrating, the way her blows seemed to bounce off the creature. Sure, she was doing damage, but normally the spider would be dead by now! The spider was spewing its toxin in retaliation, and though she deflected most of it with her shield, a few stray drops made contact with her face. A burning sensation on her skin… "Faendal, cover me!"

"Got it." The Bosmer dropped his own bow and reached for a sword. It was not his primary weapon, but he was still proficient enough with it, and lunged to get between the spider and her. She stumbled back once she had an opening and reached for a bottle of healing potion. As soon as she swallowed it down, she could feel the burn subside. She charged back in to help finish off the formidable foe, rejuvenated. A few more hacks from both and it shuddered to the ground, dead.

"Hey, are you all right?" Faendal inquired, panting from exertion. "He got you a bit with his venom, didn't he?"

Lisabeta nodded. "SHE got a little bit of POISON in my face, but the healing potion took the edge off. Plus, I'd taken a resist poison potion as soon as I saw the spider webs, so the effects were pretty dulled. It's all good."

Faendal scowled. "No need to be a know-it-all, I was just trying to be nice."

She laughed. "I know, I just can't help myself, especially to torment you. Only females grow to be that size, and venom is specifically injected in…"

"YES, GREAT, IT'S DEAD, NOW CUT ME DOWN!" the trapped Dunmer shouted, interrupting the lecture.

Both turned their attentions to him. So this was apparently Arvel the Swift, the bandit who'd gone on ahead. Approaching with sword still drawn, Lisabeta scowled. "So, thief, what do you know about the claw?"

"Yes, the claw, I know all about it and the hall of stories and how they fit together. Just cut me down and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden here…"

This was unusual. Normally, explorers were raiding tombs for treasure, but power…could it be connected to the dragonstone somehow? "I want the claw first. You stole it from Lucan Valerius and I mean to return it to him as I promised."

"I can't very well do that wrapped up in web, now can I?" the bandit growled.

Lisabeta ignored Faendal's smug grin at that remark. "Fine. Hold still so I don't accidentally take off a limb…" Carefully, she began to work loose the webs holding him in place, freeing first one arm then another, and soon he was completely free, tumbling to the ground. He wasn't free for more than a second before he scrambled to his feet and darted off further down the passages.

"Fools. Why should I share the treasure with anyone?" His fading voice echoed through the hall, mocking her. She started to run after him, but Faendal grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey, what gives? We were THIS CLOSE to getting Lucan's claw back and he totally escaped!" Lisabeta wailed. "He's getting away!"

"Stop and think. What happened to him the last time he went in blindly?"

He could see the thought dawn on her. "He got trapped by a spider and nearly eaten."

"So if he rushes ahead even faster?"

She pounded a fist in her palm. "He'll run into a trap or something!"

"Got it. Gods you are slow…" But she had already turned her attention back to the chamber, moving to gather any materials possible. "W-now what?"

"Hey, that resist poison potion I took early was made from thistle and coincidentally enough, spider eggs. I'll have to gather a few more to replenish my supply. You can make yourself useful and grab those while I harvest the frostbite venom from this monster if you want to speed up the process…"

Faendal would have never imagined he'd be peeling back the silk of egg sacs and plucking out spider eggs, but running into this Imperial girl had resulted in a lot of very strange experiences. As it was, he was eager to press ahead, so he did as she requested. Once she'd gathered everything of value in the room, they continued, searching for any sign of Arvel. In the next big room, there was what appeared to be a ceremonial embalming chamber. Once again, Lisabeta stopped to carefully wrap various instruments from the embalming process to pack away in her bag, and Faendal thought it strange that someone who didn't like dead people was willing to touch those tools despite just what they had been used for…

As they continued down the next hall, Lisabeta suddenly stopped, motioning for Faendal to hold. In the quiet, they could make out the undeniable sound of footsteps on stone pacing back and forth. "Could that be Arvel?" she hissed, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Why would he have that kind of cadence to his walk though?"

"I don't know if that is Arvel," Faendal admitted grimly. "We may not be the only ones walking these halls…"

"Other bandits?"

"Look around at where we are." She did as he said. Along both sides were niches carved into the walls. Most seemed to contain wrapped packages the size of a person, but the one just in front of her… She had to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, though her eyes bugged out. The withered form of a human, hands clasped over his chest and lying on his back, perfectly arranged in death. Faendal could tell she'd gotten the gist. "Be on your guard, and we'll take them by surprise. No need to feel remorse for killing someone who already died once, right?"

"Dead bodies walking around…dead bodies walking around…" She fumbled for her bow, shaking.

"Arvel must have woken them with his intrusion. Wonder how that worked for him…" Her companion ripped an arrow from his quiver and prepared for his shot. "If they are still walking, it can't be good for him. I doubt they'd let him pass without being taken down first. Can you peer around the corner and see the situation?"

She wanted to tell him 'no', that she had only expected bandits and traps, not dead people, that she was just a young woman on her first journey from home to see the world, not a mercenary. It wouldn't be hard to backtrack now that they'd cleared a path to the entrance, there was still a chance to turn around and escape! But even as she was frozen in fear in the middle of an ancient Nord crypt, she knew the choices she'd made had put her here. She'd disregarded Faendal's warnings, she'd been the one intent on finding Pale Pass when she probably should have just stayed home, she'd been the one to promise to help Lucan and she hadn't refused Farengar's proposal. This was all her fault, and she had to go through with this. And turning tail now after how badly she'd wanted it…she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

Steeling her resolve with these thoughts, she cautiously leaned around the corner. At first, she wasn't sure what she was hearing in the flickering light of ancient torches. Then, movement. Initially it would have been easy to mistake the figure for any other bandit, wearing heavy armor and wielding a sword. But upon closer inspection…the same sickly pale skin and atrophied limbs as the corpse on the shelf. Arvel was nowhere to be found. Her heart raced as she slid back to Faendal's side. "Definitely draugr. No sign of Arvel."

"Then we attack. You lead with the first shot." Something in the way he looked at her, and something in his tone of voice made her think he knew just how scared witless she was, and that the only way to keep her going was to give that fear no ground.

"All right. Here it goes…" She fitted an arrow on her bow, snuck to the corner while remaining in the shadows, and said a prayer for the twentieth time that day. Exhaling, she fired.

She'd been able to do substantial damage to the draugr with a spot-on first shot, though not enough to kill it outright. Or, rekill it? Either way, when it whipped around in the direction of its assailant, she could see for the first time eerie glowing eyes of blue, enough to send a shudder through her body. And the sound it made, like hacking up plegm… Involuntarily she felt her muscles tighten and the breath remain trapped in her lungs. The draugr certainly didn't seem to care that its foe was immobilized in terror. With a shambling gait it charged at her.

Faendal saved her from herself. With a rousing battle-cry, he rushed past her, sword drawn, and stirred her to action. The first draugr was slain by his blade, but two more appeared from the shadows. Adrenaline kicked in, and she moved in on them just as she would with any other opponent. It was over fairly quickly.

"First ones are the hardest," Faendal commented, studying the body on the ground. "You'll get used to it eventually."

"You say that like you've been fighting draugr for years! Isn't this your first time?"

"Well, yeah, but…I don't know, I just see something that wants to kill me and I kill it first. Basic approach of a hunter I guess."

She was still gaping at the draugr flopped lifelessly on the floor. The glow had disappeared from its eyes and it now looked like the others on the shelf. "How does this happen?"

"I'm no mystic, but all cultures have some sort of living dead. I hear Cyrodiil has some very tough skeletons that guard old ruins. I'm assuming you've never gone into any back in Bruma."

"N-no. And that is one thing I DON'T need to experience." She bent down and picked up the sword. It was a completely different style, made of blackened steel with jagged edges. "I think I'll just take it from him in case he gets any other ideas…"

"I am NOT carrying every weapon in this tomb!" Faendal protested, predicting where this was going.

"No, we'd never make it back. Just the ones that attack us."

"I think you underestimate just how many draugr are ready to attack us."

"Anyway, is there a sign of Arvel?"

Faendal scanned the room, then raised his eyebrows when he noticed a body on the ground that had a distinctly different skin color under the blood. "More than a sign, I'd say…"

The pair approached the fresh corpse. His eyes were wide in terror, and she quickly moved to close them. Then, she searched his pockets and found exactly what she was looking for: the golden claw. She turned it over, admiring the symbols of various animals carved into the palm. No idea what purpose it held, but it was pretty cool looking. "Well Lucan, not how I wanted this to end, but here it is. One mission down." She shrugged the pack from her shoulder and put the claw inside.

"And now we have a great example of what happens to people who rush through crypts," Faendal added.

"Speaking of not rushing, I'm getting hungry. Snack time?"

Faendal face-palmed. "You just looted a dead man and now you want to eat?"

She shrugged. "Now's as good of a time as any. But if you don't want any salmon steaks or apples, you don't have to join me." Before Faendal could say another word his stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he scowled.

"Fine. Pass the fish."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The crypt seemed to go on and on. There was less wildlife from that point forward, but a lot of dead life. It had Lisabeta on edge, always wondering which draugr on the shelves and tucked in alcoves would spring to life at their passing. Gradually, she developed an identification system and started sniping still-sleeping draugr wearing armor before they got the chance to awaken. Every time one would shudder upon receiving an arrow to the torso, she knew she'd found another one and felt no small satisfaction at being proactive. It slowed down the expedition, but Faendal certainly didn't mind in this instance.

Finally, they reached a vast, empty hall leading to an elaborate circular door. The lighting was extremely dim, so she took out a torch to better see her surroundings. Yet again, she found herself speechless. Along both sides of the walls, detailed carvings of people decorated the way. Each wall held three different panels, depicting some important central figure in the middle, several lesser people along the sides, and animal imagery. Gods, perhaps? If she weren't so exhausted by this point, she would have stopped to take etchings of them all. Faendal was more interested in figuring out the door.

"How the heck do you open this thing? We've seen what happens if you get the combination of animals wrong…" Indeed, towards the beginning they had watched a bandit get riddled with poisoned arrows when he tried to open a door without the correct combination.

"Say, Faendal, do you think this is the hall of stories that Arvel mentioned?" Lisabeta questioned hopefully. Her heightened volume reverberated in the sparse stone corridor. "Something about that and the claw." She held out the torch and got a good look at the symbols carved in the rings of stone. A grin broke out across her face. "I've seen these symbols before!" Hastily she withdrew the golden claw from her pack. The pattern of claw matched the holes carved into the central mechanism. Flipping it over, she saw the very animal images in a particular order from top to bottom. "The answer is so obvious as long as you have the key! Here, let me." Spinning the rings with some effort (centuries of disuse had left them rather stiff), she matched the right combination. When there was no reaction, she placed the claw in its position in the central mechanism and pushed. And turned. And suddenly the door seemed to come to life. It lowered slowly, revealing the path ahead. "Please tell me this is the main burial chamber!"

"Only one way to find out. And you know what probably is lurking in a main burial chamber if it is."

"Great. If we hadn't taken so many arrows from those bandits, I'd be out by now!" Holding out her torch once more, she led the way deeper inside.

In a drastic departure from the halls of the dead, the passage opened up into a sprawling cavern. They could hear the sound of bats flittering about towards the ceiling, and there was some natural light at last. Not just that but… "Water!" she exclaimed. "Moving water! We must be close to an exit, right?"

"I'd think so. Let's hope this dragonstone is in here if that is the case." The pair then rested eyes on a huge stone wall covered in an indecipherable script. The light pouring in from a hole in the ceiling bathed it in an unearthly glow. "That had better not be it."

Her eyes darted around, but there were no enemies to be seen. They were safely locked away in coffins, so she rushed forward. "Maybe in the treasure chest over at the side?" But as she crossed the water and neared the strange wall, her head began pounding. Like a chant, rhythmic and primal, throbbing in her mind. She stopped in her tracks and clutched her head. "Faendal, what's that chanting?"

He looked baffled. "What on earth are you talking about? There is no noise in here besides the water!"

No noise? How could that be? It had started softly, sure, but the closer she got to the wall, the louder it became, unbearably so. Suddenly, her vision blurred save for a single word of the alien text. It glowed, standing apart from the rest even though she had no idea what it meant. A hissing, crackling sound in her ears, like a fire raging. She fell to her knees, utterly overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and sensations. And in an instant, it was over. All that was left in her mind was a single word: Fus. The word remained glowing in a different color on the wall, but the noises finally ceased, leaving the girl gasping. What in the world was Fus? What did it mean? What language was it even? Who alive knew? And why hadn't Faendal experienced it? So many questions and hundreds more flooded her mind, replacing the previous onslaught.

"Lisabeta, what is going on?" Faendal exclaimed, worry evident in his voice. He'd heard nothing and seen nothing out of the ordinary, but suddenly she had collapsed.

There was no time to talk. At that moment, a loud cracking sound could be heard, and both partners snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. The lid of a sarcophagus right behind her, and slowly, an arm reaching out with a greatsword in hand. A draugr could break out of a sealed sarcophagus? Her legs were still trembling from her experience with the wall, and all she succeeded in doing was stumbling to her feet like a newborn deer learning to walk. "Faendal!"

He didn't bother with arrows. He had to put himself between her and the draugr immediately. Sword out, he met the draugr's blow at Lisabeta, parrying the attack. "Can you fight?" he shouted, changing to take the offensive.

"Yeah, just give me a sec…"

"You haven't got a sec. This guy is serious!" Before he could react further, the draugr shouted something incomprehensible.

"Fus-ro-dah!"

It may have meant nothing to either of them, but it did have the effect of sending Faendal flying across the room from the force of a blast. Wait. Fus? There was no time to wonder, only to act. Cracking open potions of health and stamina regeneration, she grabbed her sword and met the adversary.

He was not like the other draugr. Besides having better armor, he was much more skilled and tenacious. Of course, that should be obvious, considering he was probably the guy this whole tomb was built for, like a chief or great warrior. Death had not dulled his skills. Even with the two of them, Lisabeta found herself on her last healing potion. She'd noticed early on in the skirmish that poison had no effect on draugr, taking away that other advantage.

Finally, after several minutes, he was brought down with a roar of anger, the glow disappearing from his eyes as the spirit possessing him left the broken body. Both Faendal and Lisabeta were panting heavily, exhausted from what appeared to be the icing on the cake of this mission. "How the heck did he get out of his sarcophagus?" she demanded to no one in particular. "That shouldn't be allowed!" Staggering on her feet, she went to investigate his containment. To her surprise and immense relief, a large pentagonal stone was resting in the bottom. More script in that language she didn't understand, but when she flipped it over, the image of a dragon's head.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVv

"You're wrong, Lisabeta. In the end, you were just the right person, weren't you?" Giraud countered. "The only one who could set these events in motion that would be our salvation. The bards would call that destiny."

"Heaven forbid my life be something as cliché as that!" she smiled, shaking her head. "But you're probably right. I knew something was wrong when I had that weird out-of-body experience at the word wall, which turned out to be a power given to the dragonborn. And I ended up staying here to deliver the stone right when a dragon attacked and was killed, allowing me to absorb its soul. Because of that stone, I learned just what I was." She looked down at it and smiled. "Of course, before I handed the original to Farengar, I made an etching of it to keep for myself. After going through all the work, it seemed the least I could get. And when I'm gone, I want the college to inherit this copy as a piece of history. I didn't risk my neck in that tomb for nothing!"

"The college would be honored to accept such a gift, I can assure you. And coming from the Dragonborn herself, there could be no higher honor."

"Dean Gemane, Lady Pacelli, dinner is ready!" Valdimar called up from the hall below. She'd been so wrapped up in her story that she hadn't notice the smells wafting upstairs.

"Thank you, Valdimar, we will be right down." Lisabeta turned back to Giraud. "I hope you are hungry. I've learned that in addition to being a fine housecarl and warrior, Valdimar is quite a good cook. He and Belrand make a fine team, for certain."

"Indeed I am. Lead the way."

Not long after, they were all sitting around the candle-lit table. Lisabeta at the head, her dear Erik at her right and her mentor Giraud at her left, Valdimar and Belrand also welcome at the end. The room was filled with talk and laughter as dishes were passed and drinks were poured. Destiny did sound cliché, but if she ended up here like this, who was she to complain?


End file.
